


Almost

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Draco is close, so close, but he's running out of time.





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

The rain was beating down so hard it was all Draco could do to maintain an upright stance, but he kept on running anyways, stumbling and tripping every few feet. The bottom of his robes were caked with mud and they were so saturated with water it felt like he was wearing a lead suit. Unable to bear the weight of the robes any longer, Draco unclasped the front and shucked them off, leaving him in nothing but an old pair of trousers and a threadbare button up that had seen much better days.

Even through the heavy rain Draco could see the sky slowing turning a magnificent shade of red and orange. It would be daylight soon, or at least as much daylight as the rain would permit. He knew he was running out of time. He couldn’t stop now though, he knew he was close. Gripping his wand even tighter, he began to run. He could barely see through the heavy rain, and all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. Each step was a struggle as the thick mud attempted to ensnare him, as if to prevent him from moving forward.

Draco stumbled, almost falling face first into the mud. He bent over, supporting his weight on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His chest constricted painfully at the lack of oxygen but Draco didn’t care. He was almost there, he could feel it.

There were no time for breaks. No time for weakness or exhaustion. Picking up his pace he began jogging again, ignoring the pain in his side and the uncomfortable dryness in his throat.

“Fuck,” Draco cursed. The sky was getting lighter. Not much, but enough to let Draco know he was almost out of time. The tiny rays of light peeking through the clouds were painful reminders that if he didn’t hurry he would fail.

He tried to run harder, faster, but he only succeeded in tripping again. On instinct Draco twisted, trying to right his body and prevent the fall, but instead of helping he ended up landing in an awkward angle resulting in a terrible pain in his ankle. Draco winced as he stood up, fairly certain he had either broken or severely sprained his ankle. Either way it hurt like hell. Wincing with each step he continued on, unwilling to stop.

Then he felt it, the slight crackle of magic. It was as if his skin were electrically charged. For the first time in hours Draco felt the stirrings of hope. The air was heavy with magic and he knew he was close.

As the pain in his ankle became unbearable, Draco dropped to his knees and began crawling around, furiously patting the ground and swatting his hands through the air.

Minutes passed and Draco was becoming frantic. It had to be here somewhere. He had spent months listening in on meetings, eavesdropping on any conversation for just a hint of its real location. And then, by accident a few weeks ago, he’d overheard one of those bumbling red headed Weasleys, though he still wasn’t sure which one it was, talking about it. He couldn’t believe they’d be so incredibly stupid as to discuss it’s location in Diagon Alley, even if they had thought they were alone, but their foolishness had felt like Draco’s saving grace and he had filed away the information in case he were to ever need it.

He hadn’t planned on needing the information any time soon though, not really. He was a good spy, he knew that. Except for the fact that neither side completely trusted him. The Death Eaters, and especially Voldermort, were still leery of him. The tortures, the passed information, it was never enough for them. There was a leak in information and Draco knew they suspected him. Every meeting, every curse he gave or received was just another test of his loyalty. So far he had passed but Draco wasn’t stupid and he knew the day would come when it wouldn’t be enough. The day would come when they find him unworthy, or discover the truth, and if he didn’t have somewhere to go he would be tortured to the brink of death, and then killed slowly. Voldermort didn’t tolerate traitors.

Yet, the Order was just as untrusting despite the risks Draco put himself in and the vital information he gave them. No matter what he did, very few of its members trusted Draco, which is why after nearly a year they still hadn’t revealed to him the location of the Order Headquarters. His information was always passed on through pre-arranged meetings, usually with Potter, and always in a different location. No matter how many attacks he foiled, or names he gave, it was never enough for them.

Draco couldn’t blame them really, it was a war and people were scared and they took care of themselves. Which is what he had decided he needed to do, and how he had come to learn about the location of the Headquarters.

He shuddered as he remembered what had lead to his need to put the information to use. He still wasn’t sure how, but his Father had somehow discovered that he was passing on information and had revealed his Spy status, glorifying in the ability to prove his loyalty to Voldemort. To say Voldemort was upset would be an understatement, he had been absolutely furious and his revenge had been painful. Draco’s limbs still ached from the Cruciatus curse. He had been so blinded by the pain, nearly out of his mind, and he still doesn’t remember how he managed to escape. That had been almost 8 hours ago.

Draco knew it was morning by now, knew that if he couldn’t find a way into the Headquarters soon he would be discovered, but he was so exhausted. His ankle was throbbing, his limbs felt like they were weighted down, his head was pounding, his fingers ached, even his eyelids hurt.

“Potter!” Draco yelled into the air, frustrated beyond belief. It was here somewhere, he was sure of it, he could literally feel the strength of spells keeping it hidden. “Damn you, Potter. Do your foolish Gryffindor hero thing and get your butt out here and save me.” He was losing his last bit of strength, practically dragging his body forward, unable to even crawl anymore.

Suddenly the air seemed to be shimmering and Draco saw someone running towards him.

“Draco?” It was Potter after all. Draco knew he’d come eventually. Harry leaned down, placing his hands on Draco’s face as he spoke, “Draco, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright, Potter? Use your brain.”

Draco scowled as Harry laughed at him. “Nice to see imminent death isn’t enough to weaken your spirit, or dull your sharp tongue.”

“Hardly, Potter.” Draco replied as violent tremors wracked his body.

“Fuck, Draco. Come on, we’ve got to get you inside.” Harry performed several charms to ease some of Draco’s pain before lifting him into his arms. Showing no struggle under the strain of Draco‘s weight, Harry began walking towards what Draco assumed to be the hidden entrance.

“My own Prince Charming, eh? Though hardly dashingly handsome. Ever think of using a brush, Potter.” Draco was speaking very quietly now, the last of his consciousness beginning to slip away.

Harry smiled. “Does that make you my princess then?”

Draco cracked one eye open to glare at Harry. “Hardly, Potter. If anyone is the girl it’s you. Just look at the length of your hair. Besides, I‘m hardly a damsel in distress.”

Harry sobered, looking down at Draco seriously. “Everyone needs to be rescued sometimes, Draco.”

Unable to speak over the lump that had developed in his throat, Draco leaned his head against Harry and allowed the darkness to claim him as they entered the Headquarters. For the first time in a long time, Draco felt safe.


End file.
